


Stronger Than Ever

by S_u_Z_u



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Feels, M/M, One Shot, Song fic, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steves need to save Bucky, Til the End of the Line, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_u_Z_u/pseuds/S_u_Z_u
Summary: Steve hadn't seen Bucky since he walked off into the crowd to disappear with his comrades on the battlefield. He'd be lying if he said that he hadn't thought of his friend every day since. He'd also be lying if he said that day didn't break him a little.But now here he stood, his friend fifteen feet away in the 21st century and looking nothing like the man he once knew, yet looking like everything Steve needed.Seems like life was willing to give Steve plenty of second chances, and he wasn't about to pass it up.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Stronger Than Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Stronger Than Ever by Raleigh Richie.  
> Also inspired by these two gifs:  
> https://i.gifer.com/QRHb.mp4  
> https://i.gifer.com/QRHX.mp4
> 
> I've had this sitting in my backlog for a long while now. I let it go thinking I'd return to it and add more and finish up the song lyrics, but when I came across it again months later and gave it a read, it felt really good just the way it was.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. I really love these two characters and I just wanted to bring them back together on a happy note.

Blue met blue and the sky itself seemed to dim under their flare. At their unspoken command, the universe conceded and slowed herself to a near stop and every molecule now vibrated from their frozen positions. No planes flew overhead. No streams flowed to merge with their rivers. Not even the wind dared to blow by and disturb the standstill before it. The only thing to remain was the deep intake of air as two men stood before each other. Their breathing was synchronized, playing into a startled and weary melody. 

Anyone could sit by and watch the scene unfold on the empty city street. There was nothing to obstruct the view as the soldier, clad in black except for the sheen of his metal arm, stood from the mask lying at his feet. With a straightened spine, his unruly hair framed a sorrowful face. His tired eyes were wide, shaking in the truth presented before him, and his nostrils flared as his reality set its weight upon his shoulders. He visibly trembled before the other man, projecting a desperation to flee, but he was too overwhelmed to lift his feet and run. 

The man before him, his shield a dirtied beacon of red, white, and blue, watched with a dropped jaw as he shared the same recognition that filled the soldier’s blue eyes. With each memory came a blade and the man followed every twitch and flinch of the soldier’s body. His own body felt overcome with inexplicable emotion, pushing down on him with cinder blocks, and the arm raising his shield fell limply to his side. 

“Bucky?”

* * *

_ Hate me when I'm gone, I'll make it worth your while when I'm successful _

Everyone has a memory that they’re attached to. That one where the steady motion of the universe decided to swarm into a targeted location and suddenly everything was happening at once. You could barely catch your breath before the moment was over and your reality was flipped. Despite the tangible actions that brought you to this point and left you hanging in the breeze as easy as all else, you’re left with a burning heart and a heavy mind for years and years to come.

That’s just how Steve found himself. Being the skinny kid from Brooklyn with little opportunity to step out and join the leading organization for freedom, justice, and might, Steve was forced to stand back and watch as his best friend walked away; a single silhouette blending into the crowd. He would recount the minutes just before, the ones where they bickered with raised voices. His dear friend, James Buchanan Barnes,  _ Bucky _ , pushed Steve back with his syllables. 

_ “This isn’t a back alley, Steve, this is war _ .”

Steve pushed right back, feeding into that feisty desperation to quit thinking and just  _ do _ . He couldn't sit back and let the men he’s grown to know as his friends and neighbors, even the men he may never meet, go out and risk their lives while he sat back. This wasn’t any old fight, just like Bucky said. This was war and war needs men.

_ “This isn’t about me _ .”

Bucky looked him right in the eye, read everything Steve tried to hide because that was what he was good at, and didn’t lend the mercy to not throw it back in his face. Looking back, Steve knew it wasn’t a malicious attack to hurt him even though in the moment he could feel the hit tear into the chambers of his heart. Bucky’s words bred from a deep seated worry and fear. He didn’t want Steve to follow him to a place where the sky was bleak and the dirt was stained with more blood than the local butcher’s floor. There were demons and fires where he was going, and Bucky decided that was no place for his dear friend. 

_ “Right. ‘Cause you got nothing to prove.” _

But they wouldn’t leave each other on a sour note, it wasn’t in their code. So they let the tense moment fester before Bucky stepped back in and drew Steve into a tight hug.  _ Punk _ blew past his  _ Jerk _ and Steve projected his worry into the last words he called out as Bucky walked away. 

_ “Don’t win the war till I get there!” _

With a salute, Bucky was gone.

_ But when I'm here I need your kindness cause the climb is always stressful _

In the weeks after, Steve really felt the weight of his friend’s absence. The cramped apartment they shared felt so large with just one body occupying it and Steve’s anxieties grew the longer he sat there. It wasn’t long after Bucky’s departure that Dr. Erskine propositioned him into trying out their newly developed serum and from then on, it felt like time raced by him. Steve popped out just fine after the experiment, much to his hidden relief. He  _ was _ ready to risk it all, but even he was scared of what would happen to him. He had nothing to worry about though, his body took the serum like light to the leaves and redeveloped itself until Steve towered over the scientists in the room built like a brick wall. The scientists had cheered and clapped Steve on the back as they declared him the eighth wonder of the world, but all Steve found himself doing was wishing that his friend was there with him.

It wasn’t long before he was granted the honorary title of Captain America, with the country fondly nicknaming him the Star Spangled Man, and Steve sailed the renowned stars and stripes wherever he went. From then on, Howard Stark, Peggy Carter, and the Howling Commandos banded alongside him in his fight against Hydra to win the war.

But despite how close they all became, no one but Peggy knew of his search for Bucky. She was there when he inquired about him, a tinge of assertive desperation leaking into Steve’s voice as he pushed for any information on the whereabouts of-

_“Sergeant_ _James Barnes from the 107th_.” 

Her sharp eyes saw through the surface and caught the way Steve’s shoulders dropped just an inch and his eyes glazed. Steve didn’t just lose a friend in the moment Colonel Phillips offered his condolences. Steve lost a part of himself and all Peggy could offer was a gentle hand on his arm as they walked back out into the rain. All Steve could offer in return was a sharp nod before turning his back to her and briskly walking away. They didn’t speak of that moment since, but Peggy caught every frown there after and kept a silent vow to keep an eye on him.

_ Clumsily gassed myself by thinking I'll be better off alone _

Yet it wasn’t enough to comfort Steve. Every fight he entered, Steve peppered each punch and swing of his shield with grief. Men would go down left and right, lifeless bodies piling onto his shoulders, and Steve replayed their cries over and over in his mind. But every face and every cry had morphed into Bucky, alone and calling for Steve, and Steve would find a corner to hang his head and force himself to steady his ragged breathing. 

The people roared with victory after each fight. 

Steve crumbled in misery and not once did he tell a soul. 

_ I'll leave my peace in pieces all around the decent people back at home _

Steve knew, as he gathered his supplies and rounded up the commandos for their mission to retrieve the tesseract and capture Red Skull, that he wasn’t coming back. The “how” was still a mystery, but something pulled at his gut to let him know that he’d only get this one chance to let his people know what’s going on in his head. 

Peggy found him sitting alone with a bottle of brandy. He expressed his anger, vowing to kill every last Hydra agent that stepped in his way. Peggy offered her comfort and encouragement but it was stale. 

_ “I t wasn’t your fault. "  _ Yes it was. 

_ “ You did everything you could _ _._ ” It wasn’t enough. 

_ “ Allow Barnes the dignity of his choice." _

What dignity? The dignity in letting the one person who stood up for you go off to war only to sacrifice their life and have their remains go missing somewhere along the battlefield before you could even make it in? There was no dignity in dying alone and becoming just another tally.

Whether Peggy picked up on his self-loathing or not, and it’s more likely that she did because in all honesty Steve had never been good at hiding his emotions, she didn’t comment on it. Steve let her speak and grunted back in response. He drained his glass, grimacing at the ineffective burn racing down his throat, and pushed himself from the table. He left with a nod, reminiscent of their time with Colonel Phillips, and walked out of the room. He could feel Peggy’s eyes on him the whole time. 

To Howard and the Howlies, Steve offered his thanks. Simple as that. Howard clapped him on the shoulder and began rambling on about his newest ideas to enhance the durability of his suit. The Howlies laughed, saying if there was anyone to thank, it would be him. Soon after, they were all getting settled on their bikes and heading off to find Red Skull.

_ 'Cause I'm a big boy, an adult now, well nearly _

_ If I pull the wool back from my eyes I can see clearly _

_ The world is at my feet and I am standing on the ceiling, oh _

He gave it all he got.

_ And I fall, fall, fall, when it all comes down _

_ And I won't be crushed by the weight of this town _

_ I fall from the sky but I won't fall forever _

_ I fall but when I'll rise I'll be stronger than ever _

It was when Steve was sailing the aircraft to dive into the ice that the tension finally left his shoulders. He was promising a dance with Peggy that he knew they would never have, but all he could really concentrate on was how this must be a bit like what Bucky experienced. He had seconds before he crashed into the cold and a dark part of him felt that this is exactly how he deserved to go out. Crash into the ice where he’ll be lost and forgotten, where no one could find his remains. It was a gifted parallel to Steve’s remorse. 

In the last seconds, as he was telling Peggy he doesn’t want to step on her toes, Steve pictured Bucky. He was waiting in the ice for Steve, shaking his head with a laugh. 

_ “You’ve always known how to make an entrance, Punk.” _

* * *

_ Official man, delusions grand, now I'm a free agent _

Most of what he could remember was dimly lit tunnels running endlessly underground where soldiers shoved him every which way until he was either headed to a new set of coordinates or being strapped to a cold, metal chair. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until he felt nauseous with its redundancy. 

They took his arm from him. Without a second thought, they severed it from his shoulder and soldered a weapon in its place. Every time he lifted its hand to his face, so alien in design, he would test its dexterity and strength, stretch out each finger and curl them back into a fist as tight as they would go. The metal would creak but never bend, fight against him until he gave in and released.

They trained him with brutality, hardly giving him a chance to breathe before someone was throwing the next punch or aiming their rifle at his head. If they hit him or pierced his skin with a bullet, they would allow a mere second for him to absorb the blow before starting up again. It was constant, a deadly push and pull to test his limits. There was no sympathy, there was no recovery. The soldiers would take from him as they pleased without remorse. 

It was only when they grew tired that they would drag his bleeding body down the winding tunnels and then throw him in the all too familiar chair. He was always too weak to try and fight, inaudibly gasping against broken ribs and open wounds as they pulled the restraints so tight it cut off circulation. The machine would roar to life and his next moments would be filled with unbearable pain. Worse than any broken bone, worse than any bullet. Nothing could compare to the feeling of your own brain melting inside your head.

_ I'm here to make a stand for causes I don't understand and make a statement _

_ I fall short on knowledge, I don't even watch the news _

They referred to him as the Asset and that was who he became. They never looked him in the eye or spoke to him directly when discussing plans. They used commands in Russian that shot up his spine into the base of his skull and the Asset would march to wherever he was directed. He was given the barest of information on his next target. Just a date, a time, and an expectation. There were no names. 

_ 1 April, 1953 - 23:00.  _

_ 22 November 1963 - 12:30.  _

_ 12 March 1973 - 14:30.  _

_ 16 December 1991 - 22:00.  _

He would leave the base, raise his gun, breathe in - aim - breath out - fire, and return. Sometimes the Asset would hear a few men laugh with venom dripping from their lips as he was led back through the tunnels. Their taunts of the dead would bounce off the dank walls and follow him all the way back to the chair. As the men strapped him in and shoved a rubber guard between his teeth, the Asset would close his eyes. Flashes of his target would rush through his mind and he would ponder on the why. Why them? Why must they die? But as quick as those thoughts came, they would vanish. It wasn’t up to him to decide.

The only thing he would observe outside of his missions was that the world was just as messy as he was told, but it wasn’t his targets who solidified that fact. The Asset observed it all with his own eyes through the men around him. They were beasts, aggressive and assertive, with trigger happy fingers always at the ready. The men ventured beyond these tunnels to trade money for destruction and cackled with cigarettes hanging from their lips. His commanders would sneer as they discussed the next  _ pigs in line for the slaughter _ and their sharp eyes would land on the Asset when they had drawn the a name from their bloodied hat. 

So maybe that’s why a part of him was able to push past the instinctual fear that poured from him each time they sat him down and ruthlessly pulled at the restraints. A piece of him knew that he wouldn’t have to wake up and face what he’d done. When he would step out of the cold and meet the eyes of these men, the cries of his targets wouldn’t be in his head. It would be silent. The process would start anew.

* * *

_ 'Cause I'm a big boy an adult now, well, nearly _

“Bucky?”

_ If I pull the wool back from my eyes I can see clearly _

Oh, God.  _ Oh, God _ .

Smoke from the police cruiser  _ he _ destroyed was carried on the back of the wind and Bucky’s view of a man he never thought he’d see again was obscured. There was a clatter as vibranium met asphalt and suddenly this larger version of his old friend was pushing through the smoke and moving toward him. Bucky inadvertently stepped back and his grip loosened around the gun in his hand. 

_ The world is at my feet and I am standing on the ceiling, oh _

“Don’t,” but he wasn’t listening to Bucky. “Stop,” Bucky retightened his grip and raised the gun but the aim was off. His hand was shaking. 

“No,  _ Steve- _ ” 

Steve swatted the gun from Bucky’s grip, the back of his hand knocking it away so it would end up abandoned on the ground like his shield. With Bucky’s eyes on his gun as it sailed through the air, he didn’t see Steve lift his arms.  If he did, he would have twisted away, used the momentum to dig into his instincts and retaliate. If he hadn’t felt that desperate need to look away from the cause of his mind snapping back into place, Bucky would have been able to anticipate Steve’s next move, except Bucky didn’t and he hadn’t so Steve lifted his arms and wrapped them around Bucky. He drew him in until Bucky was crushed against Steve’s chest and his fingers were curled into the worn black leathe of Bucky’s tactical vest. 

_ And I fall, fall, fall, when it all comes down _

_ And I won't be crushed by the weight of this town _

_ I fall from the sky but I won't fall forever _

_ I fall but when I'll rise I'll be stronger than ever _

Bucky felt the weight of his being involuntarily sink into the feeling of warmth and strength, his mind frozen by shock and an unnamed desperation. It was only when Bucky was able to pull himself away from the feeling of Steve’s body against his own that he realized that he was shaking. In fact, the only thing keeping him upright was Steve. He found he was too afraid to close his eyes, every stolen memory that flooded into his head had turned his foggy reality into a nightmare. There were so many faces, the echoes of their screams amplifying in his head, and Bucky felt his stomach overturn because he knew it was his metal arm that held the gun that silenced them.

The bruising grip around him tightened further and drew Bucky’s focus back on the man holding him. Steve had shoved his face into the soldier’s neck and Bucky reached his right arm up to gently place his own hand on Steve’s shoulder. The large expanse of muscle shook beneath his fingertips.

“I thought I lost you.”

Bucky tightened his fingers but didn’t say anything. Steve pulled back but stayed close, his grip loosening but ever present and his forehead leaning heavily on Bucky’s. Bucky turned his eyes down, too unnerved to meet his friend's , and Steve let out a worrying sound.

“I thought I  _ lost _ you.” he repeated, voice pained. 

“You did.” Bucky’s reply could barely be heard over the wind. He clenched his teeth, hard enough that he was sure he would crack a tooth, and shoved himself away from Steve. He needed the distance, the comfort in its familiarity, and he needed to keep Steve away. He was no longer the man that Steve knew before the war. He was the Asset; a weapon with one use.

“Don’t say that. You’re right in front of me.” Steve reached out to him again, feet landing heavily as he forced himself back into Bucky’s space. Bucky shoved the hand away from him almost fearfully. He didn’t want to taint Steve in any way. The man had no idea the horrors that Bucky committed, the lives he took a string of tallies that marked the stone walls of his cell, but that didn’t stop Steve from reaching for him again. Bucky dodged this time, twisting his body away to avoid the grip, but Steve kept moving with him. It was a dance, but the desperation grew with every move they made. 

The collision of needing to get closer and needing to get away thundered against each other until Steve released a frustrated growl and threw an unexpected swing. Bucky easily stepped out of the way, but failed to recognize the move for what it was in his panicked state: a feint. He was too late to anticipate Steve launching his body forward to tackle Bucky to the ground and the two men fell heavily on the concrete. They grappled with Bucky becoming enraged enough to begin to throw his own punches. 

“Bucky!” Steve tried to plead with him, to get his dear old friend to  _ look _ at him.

“I’m not him!” He cried, shoving a hand into Steve’s face and pushed him back. Steve, with his head forcibly turned, kept his eyes on the soldier and reached up to grab his wrist to pull it away. His fingers curled around cold metal and he tightened his hold as he strained to push it to the ground.

“Let me go!” Bucky was frantic, feeling caged between the crumbled asphalt and Steve’s body, and took any opportunity he could to shove and kick, “Let me  _ go _ !”

The body above collapsed onto him and the air in his lungs was forced out. His metal arm was still tightly gripped and held to the ground and his other hand was clawing into the meat of Steve’s shoulder. Steve caught one of Bucky’s legs within his own and immobilized Bucky’s arm to his side. His head was last to drop, finding space between the shoulder and neck, and shook back and forth.

“I can’t. Bucky, I can’t. Not now that I have you  _ back _ .”

On a final growl, Bucky dropped his head back heavily and all his fight seeped out of him. 

_ I’m not defeated, I believe that I can turn this ship around _

“Do you remember...” Bucky cut Steve off with a strangled huff, his mind rushing to bloody memories as if the screams were a siren’s call. Bucky wished he didn’t. He could feel Steve’s fingers tightening around his metal wrist, signaling his frustration at being interrupted.

“It was late November and you were picking up groceries for your ma. You made me promise to meet you down by the docks later on so you could drag me along to a double date. You couldn’t stop talking about Betty Hartley that whole week and you kept promising that the pretty dame tagging along would be perfect for me.”

Oh.

Betty Hartley had been the talk of the town ever since she moved into the city. Mr. Hartley was an esteemed banker with plenty of coin to spare, and he was not afraid to show it. The minute Bucky had laid eyes on Betty, he knew he could win her over. It was all a game to him. Bucky could charm the nuts from a squirrel if he wanted to, so when Betty swayed into town with everyone tripping over their feet to take a look, he knew he would be the one to win her over. 

Bucky remembered the eye roll Steve gave him and the exasperated  _ sure, Buck  _ falling from his lips. He was honestly shocked that Steve’s baby blues didn’t get stuck in the back of his head, but it was that eye roll that made him want to do it even more because proving to Steve that he could was the real game. Yet…

That wasn’t even it though. What really mattered was the prize at the end. Every time he proved to Steve that he could, Bucky would launch his 100 watt smile in his direction and Steve would huff a laugh and quirk the corner of his mouth back at him. That small noise, that little smile, it all made Bucky’s heart skip. None of it made sense though, because the real prize should have been the girl, but Bucky could care less about everything else as long as he got that smile. 

“But I didn’t meet you. That whole morning I could feel myself getting sluggish. I was sick again. I ended up lying on the floor under that ragged blanket of mine and I was too weak to move. I think the whole day had passed by the time I realized where I was. I remember my lungs burning from how hard it was to breathe. I thought I was going to die.”

Bucky had been standing by the docks at that point, staring at his pocket watch and getting angry that Steve was late. They were supposed to meet up with the girls, dance to a few songs before Bucky pulled Betty to a sweet little corner and gave her a kiss, but it’s been twenty minutes since and Steve was nowhere in sight. It was very unlike him. Bucky found himself stomping to Steve’s place, cursing under his breath and ready to give the little shit a piece of his mind. When he reached Steve’s door, he slammed his fist repeatedly as he yelled his name. A neighbor yelled out of their window for Bucky to quiet down and Bucky yelled right back. When there was no answer from Steve, Bucky’s anger twisted into worry.

He knew Steve kept a key buried at the corner of the front step, told Bucky to take it and just let himself in, but Bucky knew Steve liked his privacy and he had respected that so he never used it. It was the creeping anxiety bubbling up in his gut that pushed Bucky to retrieve it, bury his fingers in the lightly packed dirt before racing back to the door and twisting the key. That same feeling twisted in his gut now, his body sandwiched underneath this unfamiliar body that belonged to the same Steve he knew back then.

“You found me, Buck. You picked me up and put me in my bed. I was in and out of consciousness, but I remember your voice. Sometimes you’d be reading out loud from one of my comics and criticizing almost every line,” Steve’s breath washed over Bucky’s skin when he laughed with a bittersweet tone, “ and other times I could hear you talking to me, asking me to wake up. I wanted to tell you I was, but I couldn’t get my eyes to open.”

Bucky closed his eyes. He could see the way Steve’s body lay frail and unmoving under the sweat soaked sheets, and how his chest stuttered with every inhale. His skin was clammy and cold, but his cheeks were flushed. It was a bad bout of pneumonia. What Steve must had thought was only a few hours was actually days. Bucky had run back and forth between wiping away the pooling sweat and cooking up any meals he could with what little was stored in the kitchen. He had fed and washed Steve as best he could and he never once left his side. Bucky ignored his responsibilities and he didn’t think twice about standing up Betty Hartley. His focus was on Steve.

It took a few days for the fever to break and another for Steve to open his eyes. Bucky could have cried when he saw those hazy blue’s look at him. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but he choked on a cough before he could get anything out. Bucky was at his side immediately, wiping his face and telling Steve to just breathe, that he’s ok. While Steve’s coughing slowed down and ebbed away, Bucky couldn’t pull back the smile on his face.

He let Steve rest for a while longer, popping in and out of the room to check up on him as he cleaned the small apartment. When he walked back in sometime in the late afternoon, Steve had pulled himself up in bed and was leaning heavily against the wall. He waved weakly at Bucky and Bucky rushed to his side.

_ “Hey, punk, how ya feelin’?” _

Steve coughed out a laugh, “ _ Like I lost a fight.” _

_ “So nothing new.” _

Bucky laughed delightedly at Steve’s glare, “ _ Jerk _ .”

When Bucky caught the way Steve's jaw clenched behind his frown, he immediately knew the kid was back on his shit. Bucky sat back and waved Steve off as soon as the kid started to tell Bucky he didn’t have to do what he did, causing a flush to spread across Steve's petulant cheeks as they puffed with air. 

_ “Look, Stevie _ ,” Bucky had started, his eyes unwavering as they met Steve’s, “ _ you’re not an idiot so stop acting like one.” _ The indignant frown directed at him was a treasured memory of Bucky’s before it was taken away. 

_ “You need to take care of yourself and you know better than to think I wouldn’t take care of you when you can’t. Stop working yourself so damn hard or you’re gonna end up dead and I’ll kick your ass if you do.” _

Steve had huffed and threw a weak punch at Bucky’s arm. Bucky let the hit fall, but he was quick to grab the frail wrist in a loose but steady grip before it could pull away. Steve’s angry expression faded in an instant and jumped cautiously as he waited for Bucky to continue.

_ “I’m always gonna stick by you, Steve, whether you like it or not. I’m with you 'til the end of the line, kapich?“ _

It took a moment for Steve to absorb the promise from Bucky, but when the words hit their mark, Steve’s lips curled up minutely and he gave Bucky one shallow nod in answer. Bucky blinded him right back with that smile of his and gently released his grip on Steve’s wrist. 

“I-” Steve’s voice from above swam back into Bucky’s focus, the haze of the retold memory fading into the graying sky above, “You saved me more times than I can count, Buck, but that time you made a promise to me and I won’t let you break it.” 

Steve lifted his body up from Bucky, hands pulling back from where they gripped him and moving to bracket Bucky’s head. Strands of Bucky’s long, unruly hair danced in the breeze and curled themselves around Steve’s fingers. Even the inanimate parts of himself refused to let go.

_ I’m not alone _

“It’s a two way street, Buck,” He was forced to stare up at Steve, his head close enough that he blocked out the view of the sky, yet the ring of blonde shone bright despite the shadow, “and there’s no ifs, ands, or buts about it, pal.” Bucky knew from the quirk at the corner of Steve’s lips that he was only mimicking the look growing on Bucky’s own face. 

Who was he kidding, though. That attitude got him every time.

_ I’m just focused in my zone _

“Till the end of the line, kapich?” 

Yeah, Stevie, throw it back into his face, why don’cha. 

_ This is easy _

“Kapich.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you have it!
> 
> I hoped this was enjoyable to read and I always welcome thoughts and feedback.  
> Idk if I'll add the rest of the song to this, but I have ideas if I do. Right now, it feels really good as is and I don't want to ruin it.
> 
> Thank you so so much for reading. I really appreciate all of you.


End file.
